Idylls of the King
By
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
Geraint and Enid

'In this poor gown my dear lord found me first,And loved me serving in my father's hall:In this poor gown I rode with him to court,And there the Queen arrayed me like the sun:In this poor gown he bad me clothe myself,When now we rode upon this fatal questOf honour, where no honour can be gained:And this poor gown I will not cast asideUntil himself arise a living man,And bid me cast it. I have griefs enough:Pray you be gentle, pray you let me be:I never loved, can never love but him:Yea, God, I pray you of your gentleness,He being as he is, to let me be.'

Then strode the brute Earl up and down his hall,And took his russet beard between his teeth;Last, coming up quite close, and in his moodCrying, 'I count it of no more avail,Dame, to be gentle than ungentle with you;Take my salute,' unknightly with flat hand,However lightly, smote her on the cheek.

Then Enid, in her utter helplessness,And since she thought, 'He had not dared to do it,Except he surely knew my lord was dead,'Sent forth a sudden sharp and bitter cry,As of a wild thing taken in the trap,Which sees the trapper coming through the wood.

This heard Geraint, and grasping at his sword,(It lay beside him in the hollow shield),Made but a single bound, and with a sweep of itShore through the swarthy neck, and like a ballThe russet-bearded head rolled on the floor.So died Earl Doorm by him he counted dead.And all the men and women in the hallRose when they saw the dead man rise, and fledYelling as from a spectre, and the twoWere left alone together, and he said:

'Enid, I have used you worse than that dead man;Done you more wrong: we both have undergoneThat trouble which has left me thrice your own:Henceforward I will rather die than doubt.And here I lay this penance on myself,Not, though mine own ears heard you yestermorn — You thought me sleeping, but I heard you say,I heard you say, that you were no true wife:I swear I will not ask your meaning in it:I do believe yourself against yourself,And will henceforward rather die than doubt.'

And Enid could not say one tender word,She felt so blunt and stupid at the heart:She only prayed him, 'Fly, they will returnAnd slay you; fly, your charger is without,My palfrey lost.' 'Then, Enid, shall you rideBehind me.' 'Yea,' said Enid, 'let us go.'And moving out they found the stately horse,Who now no more a vassal to the thief,But free to stretch his limbs in lawful fight,Neighed with all gladness as they came, and stoopedWith a low whinny toward the pair: and sheKissed the white star upon his noble front,Glad also; then Geraint upon the horseMounted, and reached a hand, and on his footShe set her own and climbed; he turned his faceAnd kissed her climbing, and she cast her armsAbout him, and at once they rode away.

And never yet, since high in ParadiseO'er the four rivers the first roses blew,Came purer pleasure unto mortal kindThan lived through her, who in that perilous hourPut hand to hand beneath her husband's heart,And felt him hers again: she did not weep,But o'er her meek eyes came a happy mistLike that which kept the heart of Eden greenBefore the useful trouble of the rain:Yet not so misty were her meek blue eyesAs not to see before them on the path,Right in the gateway of the bandit hold,A knight of Arthur's court, who laid his lanceIn rest, and made as if to fall upon him.Then, fearing for his hurt and loss of blood,She, with her mind all full of what had chanced,Shrieked to the stranger 'Slay not a dead man!''The voice of Enid,' said the knight; but she,Beholding it was Edyrn son of Nudd,Was moved so much the more, and shrieked again,'O cousin, slay not him who gave you life.'And Edyrn moving frankly forward spake:'My lord Geraint, I greet you with all love;I took you for a bandit knight of Doorm;And fear not, Enid, I should fall upon him,Who love you, Prince, with something of the loveWherewith we love the Heaven that chastens us.For once, when I was up so high in prideThat I was halfway down the slope to Hell,By overthrowing me you threw me higher.Now, made a knight of Arthur's Table Round,And since I knew this Earl, when I myselfWas half a bandit in my lawless hour,I come the mouthpiece of our King to Doorm(The King is close behind me) bidding himDisband himself, and scatter all his powers,Submit, and hear the judgment of the King.'

'He hears the judgment of the King of kings,'Cried the wan Prince; 'and lo, the powers of DoormAre scattered,' and he pointed to the field,Where, huddled here and there on mound and knoll,Were men and women staring and aghast,While some yet fled; and then he plainlier toldHow the huge Earl lay slain within his hall.But when the knight besought him, 'Follow me,Prince, to the camp, and in the King's own earSpeak what has chanced; ye surely have enduredStrange chances here alone;' that other flushed,And hung his head, and halted in reply,Fearing the mild face of the blameless King,And after madness acted question asked:Till Edyrn crying, 'If ye will not goTo Arthur, then will Arthur come to you,''Enough,' he said, 'I follow,' and they went.But Enid in their going had two fears,One from the bandit scattered in the field,And one from Edyrn. Every now and then,When Edyrn reined his charger at her side,She shrank a little. In a hollow land,From which old fires have broken, men may fearFresh fire and ruin. He, perceiving, said:

'Fair and dear cousin, you that most had causeTo fear me, fear no longer, I am changed.Yourself were first the blameless cause to makeMy nature's prideful sparkle in the bloodBreak into furious flame; being repulsedBy Yniol and yourself, I schemed and wroughtUntil I overturned him; then set up(With one main purpose ever at my heart)My haughty jousts, and took a paramour;Did her mock-honour as the fairest fair,And, toppling over all antagonism,So waxed in pride, that I believed myselfUnconquerable, for I was wellnigh mad:And, but for my main purpose in these jousts,I should have slain your father, seized yourself.I lived in hope that sometime you would comeTo these my lists with him whom best you loved;And there, poor cousin, with your meek blue eyesThe truest eyes that ever answered Heaven,Behold me overturn and trample on him.Then, had you cried, or knelt, or prayed to me,I should not less have killed him. And so you came, — But once you came, — and with your own true eyesBeheld the man you loved (I speak as oneSpeaks of a service done him) overthrowMy proud self, and my purpose three years old,And set his foot upon me, and give me life.There was I broken down; there was I saved:Though thence I rode all-shamed, hating the lifeHe gave me, meaning to be rid of it.And all the penance the Queen laid upon meWas but to rest awhile within her court;Where first as sullen as a beast new-caged,And waiting to be treated like a wolf,Because I knew my deeds were known, I found,Instead of scornful pity or pure scorn,Such fine reserve and noble reticence,Manners so kind, yet stately, such a graceOf tenderest courtesy, that I beganTo glance behind me at my former life,And find that it had been the wolf's indeed:And oft I talked with Dubric, the high saint,Who, with mild heat of holy oratory,Subdued me somewhat to that gentleness,Which, when it weds with manhood, makes a man.And you were often there about the Queen,But saw me not, or marked not if you saw;Nor did I care or dare to speak with you,But kept myself aloof till I was changed;And fear not, cousin; I am changed indeed.'

He spoke, and Enid easily believed,Like simple noble natures, credulousOf what they long for, good in friend or foe,There most in those who most have done them ill.And when they reached the camp the King himselfAdvanced to greet them, and beholding herThough pale, yet happy, asked her not a word,But went apart with Edyrn, whom he heldIn converse for a little, and returned,And, gravely smiling, lifted her from horse,And kissed her with all pureness, brother-like,And showed an empty tent allotted her,And glancing for a minute, till he saw herPass into it, turned to the Prince, and said:

'Prince, when of late ye prayed me for my leaveTo move to your own land, and there defendYour marches, I was pricked with some reproof,As one that let foul wrong stagnate and be,By having looked too much through alien eyes,And wrought too long with delegated hands,Not used mine own: but now behold me comeTo cleanse this common sewer of all my realm,With Edyrn and with others: have ye lookedAt Edyrn? have ye seen how nobly changed?This work of his is great and wonderful.His very face with change of heart is changed.The world will not believe a man repents:And this wise world of ours is mainly right.Full seldom doth a man repent, or useBoth grace and will to pick the vicious quitchOf blood and custom wholly out of him,And make all clean, and plant himself afresh.Edyrn has done it, weeding all his heartAs I will weed this land before I go.I, therefore, made him of our Table Round,Not rashly, but have proved him everywayOne of our noblest, our most valorous,Sanest and most obedient: and indeedThis work of Edyrn wrought upon himselfAfter a life of violence, seems to meA thousand-fold more great and wonderfulThan if some knight of mine, risking his life,My subject with my subjects under him,Should make an onslaught single on a realmOf robbers, though he slew them one by one,And were himself nigh wounded to the death.'

So spake the King; low bowed the Prince, and feltHis work was neither great nor wonderful,And past to Enid's tent; and thither cameThe King's own leech to look into his hurt;And Enid tended on him there; and thereHer constant motion round him, and the breathOf her sweet tendance hovering over him,Filled all the genial courses of his bloodWith deeper and with ever deeper love,As the south-west that blowing Bala lakeFills all the sacred Dee. So past the days.